Free Split Second by Catherine Coulter

said there were complications following surgery but the man is doing better. Have you talked to him, Agent Savich?”
    “I’m going up to talk to him now. You rest, sir. I will speak to you tomorrow.”
    “I remember that Mr. Raditch was there with Michael and Crissy on Tuesday evening, the night of the attempted robbery. I called him when I was able, and he said they were fine. Are they still all right? Do you know?”
    “I spoke to Mr. Raditch two nights ago. There have been a couple of scary dreams for the kids, and one really bad one for him, he said. He and his wife are being very careful with them. My wife set them up with a child psychiatrist.”
    “That is good. I will tell you, Agent Savich, I was so scared for the children when that man walked in and pointed that gun at me. Now, you will tell me, Agent Savich, why is there a guard at my door?”
    “What did Detective Raven tell you, sir?”
    “Nothing at all, merely that since this was the second robbery so very soon after the first, there might be some connection between the two robberies, and that concerned him. Like my wife, Detective Raven does not appear to like coincidences, either.”
    Mr. Patil looked very alert now, and there was such intelligence in his dark eyes that Savich pushed ahead. “Mr. Patil, think back to that Tuesday night. Do you believe the man with the stocking over his face was really there only to rob you?”
    “You are thinking perhaps that he meant to kill me? And since he failed, another came to kill me two days ago?”
    Savich said, “That is why the guard is outside your door.”
    “But who would want to kill me? I am an old man. I have no enemies that I am aware of. It is my wife who should be in danger, for she flays alive anyone who criticizes me or her children or her grandchildren. She is brutal. I am quite terrified of her.” Mr. Patil shook his head, and Savich saw a small smile.
    Minutes later, Savich went to the fourth floor to see Thomas Wenkel, a former resident of Ossining, in for ten years for armed robbery, paroled after eight years, and released eight months ago. He was a career felon. Did that include murder?
    There was a guard outside his room as well. His name was Officer Ritter. No, Savich was told, no visitors, nothing out of the ordinary. Officer Ritter looked, frankly, bored. Ben had best change out the guard.
    Savich paused in the doorway. Thomas Wenkel was watching TV, his eyes glued to the small set high on the opposite wall. It was a soap opera.
    “Mr. Wenkel.”
    Thomas Wenkel brought his narrow, watery eyes to Savich. “You ain’t my lawyer—go away.”
    When Savich stuck his creds under Wenkel’s nose, he ignored them. Savich saw his long, thick fingers drum against the bedsheet. Then he turned to face Savich. “You’re the guy who shot me.”
    “Yes. I could have killed you, but I didn’t.”
    “Yeah, well, thanks for that, you bastard. Go away.”
    “Did you know Mr. Patil was shot this past Wednesday night, during another supposed robbery?”
    “Stupid old fool. Did he bite the big one this time?”
    “You know he didn’t, since Detective Raven doubtless came to speak to you about it.”
    Wenkel shrugged, convulsively swallowed at a hit of pain in his shoulder, and concentrated on the soap opera.
    “Were you going to kill Mr. Patil?”
    “You ain’t my lawyer—go away.”
    “Tell me, Mr. Wenkel, when you hooked up with Elsa Heinz.”
    “I don’t know no Elsa Heinz.” He shouted at the TV. “Hey, Erica, don’t cheat on your husband with that yahoo! Don’t you got no brain?”
    Savich’s eyes flicked to the soap opera, then back to Mr. Wenkel. “Elsa Heinz was forty-three years old, in and out of prison for years, just like you, Mr. Wenkel. Why did she come running in to save your bacon? Were you more than criminals together? Were you lovers, Mr. Wenkel?”
    Wenkel started humming. There was a commercial on TV.
    “She’s dead. I had to kill her.”
    Wenkel never